


This Kid Needs Some Proper Clothes. And Food, and Shelter, so Cu Will Provide.

by Beanmaster_Pika



Series: It's Not a Ramen Shop, But It'll Do [3]
Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, cu's the one who took out the trash so cu's the one who gets to keep the kid, it was actually supposed to feature dadgamesh but w/e, or: cu adopts a daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 00:30:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beanmaster_Pika/pseuds/Beanmaster_Pika
Summary: Cu takes out the trash, and he doesn't find any raccoons. Instead, he finds a little girl.





	This Kid Needs Some Proper Clothes. And Food, and Shelter, so Cu Will Provide.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it way to early in continuity to post this? Probably. But to heck with continuity; I'm posting it now.

One day, while Cu is taking out the trash, he encounters a waif.

She is small, and scarred, and dressed in rags, and he can bet that she is malnourished, too. From the looks of it she had been digging through the garbage, and his arrival has clearly startled her, so Cu treats her as he would any sort of stray, kneeling down so he won’t seem so big and frightening and holding his hands out at his sides to show that he’s unarmed and has no intention of hurting her.

“Hello,” he says slowly, softly, and she starts. Backs up a few feet. He can’t blame her; those scars can’t have come from nowhere. He makes no move and waits, watching her, making his eyes look as soft as he can, unassuming and harmless. She hesitates, and although her stance is still guarded and fearful, her hostility drops a fraction. “My name is Cu. I work here.” There is no change in her expression, so he assumes it’s safe to go on. “What’s your name?” She says nothing. “Would you like to come inside? Our chef can make you something fresh. We’ve got leftover ingredients.”

The hostility is back up. She glares at him. Maybe she’s gotten offers like this before, only from worse people who didn’t mean what they said. Maybe she doesn’t want to go inside.

So Cu stands— _ slowly _ —and walks backwards back into the restaurant. She tracks him with her eyes until she can’t see him anymore. He goes to Emiya and tells him that there’s a kid outside, and he wants him to make something quick and easy. Emiya questions him as to why, but he is insistent on speed so his boyfriend gives up and makes an omelette and fried rice. When Cu brings it out for the kid, she’s gone.

 

Cu leaves a plate out every day after that. It goes uneaten, despite clear signs of her ransacking the trash can and small glimpses he’s caught of her through the window, and he has to throw it out. Eventually he brings it up with Emiya, who suggests that maybe the kid thinks it’s poisoned.

_ Oh _ .

Cu hadn’t thought of it that way.

The next day, when he brings out the plate, he sits down and starts eating some of it himself. “Mmmm!” he says loudly. “This is delicious! It’s a shame it’s too much for me to finish on my own. If only there was someone I could share it with.” No answer. He hadn’t expected one. “Oh, man! I guess I’ll have to just leave it out here and hope someone will come along and finish it.” He goes back inside, settles beside the window, and waits, watching through the slits of the blinds.

The kid shuffles out of her hiding spot and stands in front of the half-eaten meal. She stares at it a while, chewing her lip in rumination and fidgeting forward and backward, indecisive, weighing the pros and cons of taking it. She chooses not to, in the end, but Cu adds the act to his daily routine, and a week later, she goes for it. She eats all of it, shoveling it in her mouth, and then she grabs what she can from the trash bin and runs off.

Success.

They repeat this, day after day, until one day Cu deems it safe to call out to her. “Hey, kid, why don’t you come out?” he says, looking directly at her hiding spot. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” Silence. Probably horrified silence, since she likely thought he didn’t know she was there, but nothing escapes Cu; he’d been the sharpest tracker in the army back when he’d enlisted. He continues, undeterred. “Our food is good, right? Did you like anything in particular? I can tell the chef to make it tomorrow, if you want.” He steps forward a fair distance between them, places the bowl down—it’s some sort of noodle soup today, carefully cooled because the kid eats like a ravenous wolf—and then sits back in his spot. She darts out of the shadows and grabs it, then retreats to scarf it down. Never looks away. Always watching. Wary, because that’s what keeps her alive.

She steps forward again and puts the bowl down. “...I liked the muffins,” she mumbles. “With the strawb’ries in ‘em.” Cu smiles.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that for tomorrow,” he says, then leans back. “Would you mind staying and chatting?”

She looks at him, guarded but curious, and does not leave. It’s a start.

“I’ll be frank here. Life on the streets is no way to live for a little girl.” It was hell for him as grown man; he can only imagine what it must be like for her. And it’s nothing good. “Why aren’t you in an orphanage? They aren’t the best, but there’s food and bed and clothes.”

“I don’t like them,” she says. “All the grown-ups there hate me. Hate all of us. Don’t want us. They just want us to get taken away already.” There’s not much he can say to that. They stare at each other, deadlocked, and Cu considers his options. Logically, he should bring this kid in to the police, who will make her a ward of the state and probably keep her fed and clothed. However, that’s a definite no-go; she’ll hate it, and also probably hate him. So what’s left?

_ Adopting her _ , a sneaky voice in the back of his mind says. He agrees with it. He’d never really thought about having kids, but he supposed fostering a pre-teen can’t be that bad. Plus, Emiya already acts like a mother hen, so it should work out. 

“How about staying here?” he says brightly. 

The kid flinches, then says sharply, “Why?”

Cu spreads his hands wide and gestures to the shop. “We have good food every day and there are more rooms than we need on the upper floor. You don’t need to pay rent, just eat a lot and grow up healthy. And go to school, maybe.” That part’s negotiable; he can have her tutored, like Scathach did for him. “Not a bad deal, right?”

A flicker of longing passes through her eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it’s there. “Why’re you being so nice t’me?”

“I don’t know,” Cu admits. “But y’know, when you get to my age, live through the things I have, and see a kid out on the street, living on the stuff people are throwing out… Well, you end up wanting to help. So even if you don’t wanna live here, could you at least come inside? The chef wants to meet you.” Actually, Emiya has been relatively apathetic, if a bit pitying, about the entire situation, but this might make her more comfortable.

“...Fine.”

And, to his surprise, she goes up to him and grabs his hand. Progress.

So he brings her inside, and introduces her to Emiya, who welcomes her warmly. He looks like he’s about to pat her head, but thinks better of it—he’d probably startle her. She tells him that his food is delicious, and he smiles, and thanks her.

( _ She’s surprisingly friendly now, Cu muses. Maybe because it’s so  _ warm _ in the kitchen; warm fire, warm smiles, and, crediting himself a bit, a warm hand. _ )

They go upstairs, where Gilgamesh is lounging on a sofa after a long day of sassing and charming customers in equal measures. He takes one look at the girl before looking up at Cu and saying, “We’d better be keeping that child, mongrel.” 

Cu rolls his eyes and snickers. “That’s the plan, but she’ll need some convincing,” he jokes. Her hand tightens on his as she stares at Gil with big, round eyes. She’s probably never seen so much gold jewelry—or bad fashion—in her life. He taps her lightly to shake her out of her stupor, and then he leads her up to the next floor, where the bedrooms are. He opens the door to an unfurnished, unoccupied one and shows her in.

“All this will be yours, if you decide to stay,” he says, and he’s only half-joking, having been homeless himself at one point and knowing exactly how amazing even a room can be, and the girl’s face is so wistful, and sad, and there’s that longing again, and Cu-

Cu doesn’t even know what her name is. He rests a hand on her head and asks for the second time. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Jack,” she says after a moment, still mesmerized by the room. It’s small and a little dingy, but she looks in love with it. Cu resolves to buy her a bed, because he has a feeling she’ll be needing one soon. Her hand tightens on his again. “I can really stay here? You aren’t gonna kick me out?”

He ruffles her hair. “Of course not, kiddo. This is your home now. I’m your family now, if you’ll have me.”

“...Yeah.” She looks up at him, expression no longer suspicious, no longer cautious. “Yeah. I will.”

* * *

The legal papers are hell, and Gilgamesh’s laughter isn’t helping, but Jack’s smile when she is officially adopted Jack Chulainn makes everything worth it.


End file.
